


My Salvation

by Tarlan



Category: Deep Red (1994)
Genre: Extended Scene, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-26
Updated: 2006-06-26
Packaged: 2017-10-18 17:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Gracie almost drowns, Joe has a flashback of losing Mack's family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Salvation

I leaned back against the sand, my shirt hanging open as I tried to cool my overheated body. Gracie said there had been _reds_ on the cigarette I smoked earlier: the one her father had taken from the packet and then replaced with seeming disdain just before Newmeyer had him killed. At the time it had all meant nothing to me, and I was too low on smokes to care that another man's lips had been around it.

Hell, I still didn't understand what was going on, only that I was burning up inside as the _reds_ repaired the damage to my body. I frowned, feeling the nausea rise that probably had as much to do with the amount of alcohol I'd been drinking as with the _reds_.

Part of me questioned exactly what they were repairing. Years of smoking must have caused a fair amount of damage to my body, or maybe it was just the years themselves that were the problem. Once they had finished their repairs would I look into the mirror and see any outward change?

I tried hard to distract myself with thoughts of these... nanites, traveling through my body, targeting cancerous or age-damaged cells but, inevitably, my thoughts returned to Mack, just as they always did these days.

Mack was right to hate me. I was to blame for what happened. I was his friend and he had entrusted the safekeeping of his wife and his little girl into my hands... and I failed him, failed them... failed us all.

He could have gone to his buddies in the Police department when he started getting those death threats from James Harper but, instead, he had come to me... and Lou and Monica. He'd asked us to watch over his family.

They all told me it wasn't my fault... all except Mack. But he was right. It **was** my fault... all of it. Who else was left to blame?

 _"Put the girl down."_

 _"No. You put the gun down... I'll kill her. Right here. Right now."_

 _"Do something, Joe. He's got my baby!"_

 _"All right... all right. Please don't hurt the little girl."_

 _"No. Don't... Oh my God!"_

 _"No. Harper, No..."_

I can recall waking up in the hospital with my head feeling like it had exploded into a thousand pieces. My ears still ringing from the gunshot that creased the left side of my head, slicing through the eyebrow, and along the temple to take a nick out of the tip of the ear.

It's why I wear my hair longer these days, to cover the mangled tip, and to cover the scar for I take no pride in it. It's no battle scar to be vaunted, no wounding I display in triumph. What had Warren Rickman called it... a hideous scar? I had flinched when said that, not through vanity but with the knowledge of just how truly hideous it was... for it branded me with its shame... to the depths of my soul.

The ringing in my ears stopped eventually, but even at its worst it could never drown out the sound of Emmie's screams. She had been only five years old; with locks of shiny brown hair falling passed her tiny shoulders, bright hazel eyes alight with mischief and delight, and a smile that chased even the darkest shadows away into the furthest reaches.

I loved her.

Maybe I had loved her too much.

James Harper was a mean son-of-a-bitch, sent down for armed robbery. His brother, Jeffrey, had been with him... and Mack had killed Jeffrey outright as they came out of that store with guns blazing. Mack told me that even as they dragged Harper out of the courtroom to start a ten-year sentence he had screamed out his death threats. Ten years ought to have cooled that rage but maybe it had just festered instead, waiting for the opportunity to exact vengeance.

The death threats started coming soon after they released Harper. Had it been only a year ago?

 _"Oh God, he's got Emmie!"_

 _"Gwen, stay back."_

 _"Where's Waters? I'll put a bullet in his little girl."_

 _"Mummy, mummy. Please help me mummy."_

I can still hear her cries of fear. I can still see those bright hazel eyes filled with terror... and I can still see half her head disappear in an explosion of blood and brains as he shot her before turning the gun on me.

I sank into oblivion with Gwen's screams and more gun shots following me down into the darkness. Over a year had passed and I still live in that darkness. My own private hell.

I groaned aloud, my body trembling, sweat pouring from me, running in tiny rivulets down my chest, trickling down the side of my face. Beads of sweat were sliding down the side of my nose to sting my eyes with their saltiness. I pushed the sweat-laden strands of hair back from my face, fingers grazing the left temple and ear.

Something is different about the flesh beneath my fingertips. Smooth flesh has replaced the ridge of scar tissue... the curve of an ear has replaced the ragged tip.

I looked into the distant blackness of the ocean crashing against the sandy beach, remembering another little girl entrusted to my care; a little girl who has never seen the ocean before as she'd always been too sick.

"Gracie!"

I stagger to my feet, running towards the darkness where only the frothing tips of waves caught any of the meager light spilling out from the bungalow behind me. A small shape in the wet sand caught my eye and I raced over to find her small body lying limp, washed up on the shore.

My attempts to put life back into her small frame failed... and once more the darkness of hell descended upon me as I saw yet another person I had failed.

"The reds won't let her die."

I turned back as I heard her first choking coughs, my soul beginning to ascend from those fiery depths as her mother gathered the small -- living -- frame into her arms. I collapsed to the sand beside the small group; offering silent prayers of thanks to a God whom I thought had deserted me.

Gracie smiled up at me and, like with Emmie, it chased away the darkening clouds of failure and fear, though they still hovered far too close for comfort.

Mack was still right. I was to blame, and I had spent a year living in hell, pushing away friends, and pushing away loved ones in the belief that I deserved neither.

But as Gracie smiled up at me, with eyes full of a child's compassion and unconditional love, I saw a glimmer of light flicker in the darkness of my soul.

Somehow I knew that she was my salvation... and next time I would not fail her.

THE END


End file.
